Sea and Change
by Scriobhaim
Summary: Imaginings about the end of 713 and the series. Tracking the journey from Miami over the sea to a new home and a new life.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Burn Notice and its characters are the intellectual property of others**.

Sea and Change

She kept her gaze on the horizon searching for signs of his return. The light was quickly fading. It had been a long day. A long terrible day and she was bone weary. A squeeze of her hand brought her thoughts back to the present as she looked down at the little boy beside her. Charlie's eyes had the haunted look she knew all too well. Her thoughts drifted to a time all those many years ago when she knew fear, when the world around her was in constant flux. She drew strength then from her father's gentle assurances. Now, it was her turn to pass along the lessons learned from him. A smile crossed her face as she gently lifted the toddler, settling him on her hip.

"Sam, can you grab the binoculars in that bag?"

"Sure thing, sister." Sam fumbled through the bag she indicated. It was clearly hastily packed and typically Fiona. A few items of clothing, extra clips of ammunition, some cosmetics, duct tape, even a Welcome to Miami snowglobe. He finally found the binoculars and passed them to her.

"Uncle Michael will be here soon", Fiona said as she placed the binocular cord over Charlie's head. "See if you can spot his boat. When we see it, we'll go down to the beach and take a ride on the sea."

Charlie grappled with the binoculars. His tiny hands were unable to support their weight so Fiona kept them level. He tried to focus but soon turned his glance back to Fiona.

"Can I drive the boat?" These were the first words he had spoken in hours and eased a bit of the pain in her heart.

"As long as Aunt Fi doesn't drive! You didn't pack any Dramamine!" quipped Sam as Fiona glared at him before answering Charlie.

"That's a question you'll have to ask your Uncle Michael but I think we can convince him." She leaned her head closer and winked conspiratorially. A small smile appeared on Charlie's face and he turned his attention back to searching for the boat.

"Fi." Sam caught her eye and nodded his head as he caught sight of a boat in the distance. Fi scanned the water, following his gaze, and watched the boat slowly approaching the shore. She met Sam's eyes then quickly looked away as her throat tightened.

"Looks like its show time. I'll get Jesse." Sam put a hand gently on her shoulder and headed toward the place Jesse was staked out on lookout duty. Fiona acknowledged this statement with a nod of her head and held onto Charlie a little tighter. This was all happening too fast, yet time was of the essence if this plan had any chance of success.

Just hours before, they had laid Madeline to rest next to her youngest, Nate, the sadness nearly overwhelming all of them. But now was not the time to grieve. The empty coffin beside her had set a plan in motion, a plan that required immediate action.

Michael may have negotiated an "early retirement" with the CIA, a new identity, a release from their demands, but there were some obstacles not as easily remedied.

Charlie. His closest living paternal relatives were now "deceased" and the courts would ultimately decide his fate. Michael had made a promise and he intended to keep it. Charlie would not be brought to the Florida Department of Children and Families the morning following his grandmother's funeral as directed. He would be on his way to a new life, a life with Michael and Fiona.

The boat grew larger with each passing second. Michael managed a weak smile when Charlie let go of the binoculars and began to wave. Fiona set him down, returning the lenses to her bag just as Sam and Jesse cut through the trees. Charlie began to inch toward the water. Fiona remained stationary, soon flanked by the two men she regarded as her dearest friends. She felt their presence but her eyes were locked on Michael and the little boy anxious to greet him, lost in thought about the future.

Sam's booming voice cut the mounting tension."It's about time, Mike. I was beginning to think I was gonna miss happy hour."

"I would never let that happen, Sam." Michael broke into a sincere grin as he reached the shallows.

"Better throw a couple of bucks our way just in case." Jesse moved from Fiona's side catching the line Michael threw toward him. "I'm gonna have to listen to him gripe about it all the way back to Miami."

Fiona broke her reverie as Michael stepped into the water, walking toward them. He reached Charlie first, "Hey. You ready?" Charlie stared at his uncle and nodded. They both turned to Fiona as Sam and Jesse began to put the bags into the boat.

The smile left his face. "And you, are you ready to do this?" Michael saw the worry in her eyes. It seemed that he always managed to complicate her life despite his best intentions. "Fi, if there were any other way..."

"There isn't." Fiona shook her head. Options had been discussed and discarded. They both deserved a fresh start. But as her eyes darted toward her friends, she had underestimated how difficult this parting would be.

Michael followed her gaze, reading her thoughts, his feelings echoing her own. His voice barely a whisper now, "You could stay... I'd understand...You've already given up so much-"

"-And I damn well expect a lifetime of you remembering that." Fiona raised her eyebrows and gave him a look that he knew so well. Then, their smiles erupted.

"You two can get all lovey-dovey after you shove off." Sam moved back toward his friends, growing increasingly serious. "Everything's on board, Mike."

He turned to Charlie. "You be good. Always listen to Fiona. She's usually right about stuff." Sam let out a heavy sigh. "Can't believe I'm actually saying that..." He looked at Fiona. This woman who he once regarded as a "complete psycho" had become his sister.

"It's been real, Tinkerbell." Sam's eyes rolled toward Michael. "Try to keep him out of trouble."

Tears welled in Fiona's eyes, "He better keep himself out of trouble- or I'll shoot him!"

"That a girl, Fi! Uh, better not let Charlie hear you say that." Sam made an attempt to cover Charlie's ears.

Michael chuckled and nodded in agreement. "Point taken." Then became somber, "Sam, I don't know...", not being able to continue.

"Stay safe, brother. Take care of your family. I don't want to have to hunt you down and kick your ass if you don't."

"I promise."

Jesse looked at his friends, knowing it was time to say goodbye, not really knowing how. These two had become a part of his family. He embraced both feeling a bit misty eyed.

"Be good to each other. And take care of that little man. He needs you."

Turning to Charlie, he continued, "Charlie, my man, high-five!" Charlie gladly complied. "Let's get you into that boat. Jump on!" Jesse leaned down and Charlie climbed onto his back. Jesse and Charlie approached the boat and the piggyback ride ended as Charlie was safely deposited in the bow.

Michael took Fiona's hand and together with Sam walked toward the water's edge. Words were no longer necessary, or possible. A last awkward hug and Fiona climbed into the boat, settling herself near Charlie. Michael followed right behind, starting the engine quickly. The boat began to move toward the sea. The first step of the journey leading to their future. The two figures on the beach grew smaller with each passing second. Charlie waved at his "uncles" until they disappeared from view. Fiona turned her head to look at Michael. She was surprised by what she saw- a man no longer torn, a man who finally found what he was searching for, a man at peace. Michael stared back, a smile on his lips, and ratcheted up the speed. A new life had begun.

Sam and Jesse watched silently until the boat and their friends were no longer visible, the darkness descending around them.

"Mojito time, Sam."

"You buying?"

"Yeah. I'm buying."

Sam slapped Jesse on the back. "In that case, it may be time for multiple mojitos."

They turned away from the water headed for Miami and home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

"Fi, can you grab the GPS unit in my bag there. We need the coordinates." Michael kept the shoreline in sight as he headed toward the rendezvous point. She handed him the device as he made the adjustment in direction.

Luckily, Fiona still had contacts that feared her reputation despite her being out of the game for a while. She reached out to Paco who happily provided the name of an associate who made "special" transportation arrangements. He even waived his usual fee anxious to get Fiona Glenanne out of his territory. She had been a thorn in his side during her time in Miami and he was certainly not sorry to see her go.

Charlie stopped looking toward the lights along the shore. He cupped his hand around Fiona's ear, whispering softly, "Can I drive the boat now?"

"Ah, that's right. We were going to talk to Uncle Michael about that very thing." Michael looked at both questioningly, wondering what plans these two had concocted. "Charlie would like to help drive the boat. We thought you might like the help."

"Actually, the motor really propels the boat," noted Michael but once he saw Fiona's stern glare, he hesitated, then continued, "but I could use help handling the rudder to steer the boat. What do you think, Charlie? Think you could do that?"

Charlie vigorously nodded his assent and Fiona shifted Charlie toward Michael. Charlie settled close to Michael, his small hand placed on his uncle's as together they worked the controls. Fiona watched as they became more comfortable with their partnership with each passing moment. Michael, one hand holding the GPS, the other guiding their progress, enjoying the soft touch of his nephew. Fiona couldn't help but stare at the pair. Charlie may be Nate's son but she always felt he was so like Michael in many ways. Charlie was a keen observer. He watched everything- and everyone- around him. He didn't talk incessantly. Something she noted and was especially grateful for after spending an afternoon at Madeline's while Charlie had a play date with two of his friends from preschool. Madeline took the constant chatter in stride but Fiona was ready to shoot someone, or herself, just to make it stop. Charlie seemed in many ways wise beyond his years and when he spoke it was usually direct and to the point, much like Michael. Madeline had made the same observation on more than one occasion. A wave of sadness passed over her, thinking about her friend, her "mother", wishing she could be here to share this moment, share this new life.

Michael's voice broke her reverie. "Fi, I think that might be our ride up ahead." Fi found the flashlight and signaled the vessel and received an immediate correct response. Michael slowed the boat as they readied themselves. Their demeanors turned serious, their preparations methodical. There were inherent problems with being on the run; problems that Michael and Fiona were both keenly aware of. When forced to rely on those working outside the law, it was essential to consider all possible scenarios. The crew would be aware that their future passengers would likely be carrying a significant amount of cash. They could easily choose to eliminate their passengers, as well as, deliver them safely to their destination. Michael and Fiona wanted to send their new hosts a message. They expected them to honor their part of the bargain or suffer the consequences. Of course, arming yourself with guns and C4 is much easier without the presence of a three year old.

As they drew closer to the larger boat, Michael noted it contained a crew of three, good odds if trouble began to brew. He looked at Fi, wordlessly, they formulated a plan B. "Charlie, climb on my back, hold on tight. Don't let go until I tell you. All right?" Michael got his nephew settled and turned to Fi. "Ladies, first," a smile spreading across his face.

"Ah, how gallant!" A quick retort as the small craft pulled alongside the larger boat. Pleasantries were exchanged and bags were transferred followed by Fiona, herself. She boarded and set herself in a strategic position ready to act if necessary. Michael and Charlie immediately followed, carefully positioning themselves, as well. The small outboard was cut loose and they quickly began to move. The crew looked cautiously at their new, well-armed passengers and seemed to be eager to be on their way, rid of their charges as soon as possible.

Michael and Fiona exchanged glances, easing their guard a bit. Michael helped Charlie off his back and onto the deck. Fiona beckoned him to move closer to her. She greeted him with open arms and nestled him close to her body, both for comfort and for warmth. The soothing motion of the boat soon began to work its magic. Charlie's breathing slowed. As much as he struggled to keep his eyes open, his lids became heavy, and he fell into a heavy dreamless sleep. Michael watched silently. He was used to the sight of Fiona holding explosives with care, caressing a new firearm, her eyes alight with excitement but this-this was not something he ever envisioned. Fiona holding his nephew with care, softly rubbing his back, her face softened, watching the rise and fall of each breath.

She felt his gaze and met his eyes before he spoke. "You should get some sleep, too. I'll take the first watch. I'll wake you in a couple of hours." Recognizing a sound tactical move, she shifted Charlie slightly, and allowed herself to relax, knowing Michael would keep them all safe.

Michael ever vigilant kept an eye on the crew, focused on any sign of trouble. Now that Charlie was ensconced in dreamland he allowed himself the repetitive actions of taking apart and cleaning one of his guns. This had a dual purpose, to keep him alert, his mind sharp, and to remind the crew that he and his family should be given a wide berth for the duration of the trip.

The boat cruised at full speed. The crew was constantly looking over their shoulders, wondering what Paco had gotten them into. They were used to dealing with drug smugglers, tax evaders, and petty criminals. They were not prepared for this strange trio-a woman cradling both a sleeping child and what looked like a block of C4, and a man with a hardened stare handling his gun with menace and a smile.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

The hours passed. Watch duties were exchanged, snacks were consumed, and what felt like a thousand games of "I Spy With My Little Eye" were played. Finally, the agreed upon location was reached. Michael and Fiona each peered through their binoculars searching for a temporary safe house. Charlie emulated the pair, peering through a makeshift set of binoculars made from two toilet paper rolls duct taped together. A string of empty cottages dotted the seaside, midweek in the autumn not being a busy time for rentals. They scanned the shore searching for something suitable. They needed a small place, easy to break into, preferably without an alarm system, with good exits, no curious neighbors, and easy access to roads. Their stay would be brief. Fiona and Charlie would lay low while Michael procured some ground transportation

"There!" Michael pointed to house that seemed to fit their needs. Fiona nodded in agreement. Michel moved closer to the captain, explaining the plan to him- again. "This is the first drop off point. I need to get the woman and the boy to shore. Once I get them to that house, I'll return and we'll be on our merry way to the marina, as we discussed. Are we clear?" Michael's patience was wearing thin.

"And then we're done, right? You'll give us the cash- and the passports?" The captain and his small crew had become increasingly nervous around their passengers. They wanted this job to be complete; they wanted to be headed back to Miami.

"Yes!" Michael exasperated by the exchange. "You will get the money and the passports. My companion..." Michael indicated Fiona who waved at the group "…will be awaiting my call. If she doesn't receive that call, she intends to call the Coast Guard claiming she has reason to believe that this is a drug boat."

"I left you a little surprise. Something to remember us by. I planted a tracker, so I'd know exactly where to find you. You keep your end of the bargain, and this little trip can stay just between us." She gave the men a wink. "If not..." Her voice trailed off, a feigned look of dismay on her face.

"I got it, lady. Just do whatever the hell you need to do!" The captain raised his hands and stormed off.

Charlie wasn't sure what was happening but Michael and Fiona seemed confident, their smiles reassuring him that all was as it should be. But after the captain turned away he noticed the looks that passed between the two, first a set of eye rolls, followed by sighs of relief.

The boat came to a stop, temporarily anchored as the dinghy was lowered, then loaded. It was a short voyage. Michael jumped out as they approached the shallows, pulling the small craft onto the sand. Once secured, Fiona helped Charlie, his legs a bit wobbly after spending time at sea. Michael, tapping the lock picks in his pocket, headed toward the selected house. Fiona watched him for a few moments, and then turned her attention back to the boy at her side.

"All this sand. Seems like we should do more than sit on it. How are your sandcastle building skills?" Charlie shrugged his shoulders. "Shall we?" Fiona seated herself upon the sand, scooping the sand into a mound. Charlie dropped beside her, joining in. The air was considerably cooler here. Fiona stopped a moment to zipper Charlie's jacket, and then returned to the task. The two worked quietly together as the pile grew higher. Within moments, Michael returned, puzzled by the sight before him.

"What?" Fiona looked up seeing the confusion on his face. "We decided to build a sand castle while we were waiting."

"Looks more like a sand mountain."

"You're no fun, Michael. Where's your imagination? Maybe if you look at it from another angle." She stood up, grabbed his hand, and moved to a different viewpoint.

"Still looks like a mountain." But as he caught the expression on Charlie's face, he tilted his head and quickly added, "Actually, from this side, it does look like a castle, a castle that has possibly been hit by a battering ram." Charlie's face brightened. "Let's get you and the bags inside. I don't want to keep them waiting too long."

Everyone grabbed something to carry, even Charlie, and they trudged through the sand. Within moments, the door was opened, the bags deposited on the floor, and a quick survey was conducted of their surroundings. The house was clearly shut for the coming winter. Tarps and sheets covered the furniture. They would make as little imprint on the house as possible.

"Should only take a couple of hours. Use the burner if you need to reach me. And Charlie, will you watch Fiona for me? See she doesn't get into any trouble. Can you do that for me?" He smiled at his nephew, tousling his hair. Charlie nodded. Michael took a last look at Fi, smiled, and turned away already his mindset in operational mode.

"Aren't you going to kiss her goodbye?" Charlie called after him, confusion on his face. Michael stopped abruptly and turned his gaze toward the pair.

Fiona looked mildly amused. "Ah, out of the mouths of babes!"

Michael's focus returned to the present. He couldn't help but smile at Fi's expression, waiting to see what he would do after this admonishment. He walked over to Fiona, encircling her waist with one arm, and kissed her. "Take care," he whispered as their lips parted.

"You, too."

Charlie smiled in approval and Michael was on his way. Fiona and Charlie watched from the window as Michael pushed the dinghy into the water, climbed aboard, and rejoined the boat and the crew that would bring him to the marina. Fiona was lost in thought, uncomfortable with the separation, but realizing that stealing a car with a three-year old in tow was not a sound plan. This was the better option. A tug of her arm brought her thoughts back to Charlie who looked up at her and asked, "What's a battering ram?" A heavy sigh escaped her and she realized she had found just the thing to occupy their thoughts for the next couple of hours.

The wooden floor had a fine layer of dust that had settled upon it since the last of the summer's tenants departed. It was just the perfect canvas for a lesson in castle sieges and defenses. Fiona used her finger as a stylus as she drew. "Let's start with a large rectangle, shall we? These are the outer walls of the castle, the curtain. At the top, we have the battlements and ramparts. She drew little squares to demonstrate this. Some castles have moats, like a little lake around it. She drew curvy lines representing the water around the castle walls. There's usually a tower, or keep, someplace in the center. That's the most important part of the castle to protect in a siege. Over here, we'll place the barbican." Fiona continued drawing parts of the castle explaining the function of each. Charlie soaked in every feature and explanation with rapt attention.

Once the drawing was complete, Fiona moved the topic from architecture to battle. She talked for several minutes about various ways to breach a castle's defenses, explaining each combatant might have their own approach. "For example, if Uncle Michael wanted to take this castle, he would likely divert the water supply. Without access to the well and water, the castle dwellers would likely open the gates eventually. Lot less bloody but it takes awhile."

"What about you?" asked Charlie. "How would you do it?"

"Frankly, I don't have the patience for a long siege. I would try to find something to break through the walls or the gates. That's where the battering ram comes in." She continued going through options as Charlie came up with some of his own including building a ginormous tunnel or parachuting from a helicopter. She gave him points for originality despite his lack of understanding of medieval warfare.

"I wish I could see a real castle. Have you ever seen one, Aunt Fiona?"

"I have. Where I used to live, the countryside is filled with them. Of course, most of them are mere ruins. Many of them destroyed by battles just like the ones that we are talking about." Fiona turned wistful, thinking of home, wondering if a return was possible. They needed to go somewhere, preferably an English-speaking country so they could blend in as soon as possible. There was only one sure way to find out.

"Charlie, you keep thinking of ways to get around the castle's defenses. I need to make a call." Charlie rested his face on his arms, staring intently at the diagram.

Buried at the bottom of her bag she found the phone. With trepidation she scrolled through the contents, found the desired number, and pressed call. A familiar voice answered sounding somewhat groggy with sleep, "Yea?"

"Sean." A simple name uttered with hope, Fiona paused, letting her voice providing some recognition. "I was calling to see how the weather was. I don't always get much news here."

"Haven't checked in a while. Sounds like it may be important." Sean was fully awake now, trying to remember the words agreed upon so long ago. There was a catch in his voice as he continued, "Heard about some troubles your way. Seems a man I used to know got himself blown up. Terrible pity."

"My fella and I heard the same. The world can be a dangerous place. Trying to get my family to a place not so stormy." Fiona tried to keep her voice from cracking. "Looking for a holiday cottage for the three of us to settle for a bit if the price isn't too dear."

"It may take a few days but I'll look into it. Three, you say?"

"_Ta. Tri. Ta buachaill agam_." Her voice was barely audible.

"_Buachaill_ ?" A lighthearted chuckle broke some of the tension. "Well, you always have been full of surprises." His tone turned more serious, "This a good number to reach you, then?"

"Should be."

"I'll be checking the forecast. Get back to you soon as I can." His voice softened. "Good to hear from you. Been a while."

"Yes, it has."

"Well then, I'll be off. Stay safe. Be in touch." And with that, the call ended. Fiona returned the phone to the bottom of her bag, hoping the call was the answer to a problem, not the cause of one. She turned her attention once again to Charlie who was still transfixed by the castle drawing. She watched him a mite longer, hoping that perhaps soon, she may be able to show him the real thing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

While Fiona was explaining the intricacies of medieval war strategies to his nephew, Michael was shedding the last vestiges of his former life, severing the last remaining connections that tied him to that identity. "Michael Westen" was officially deceased, dying in a fiery explosion. Several people watched him enter that building, but no one saw him exit. The parallels to the faked death that Larry Sizemore had arranged for himself were not lost on Michael. Over the past few months, Michael had felt himself on a slippery slope, becoming more like Larry that he cared to admit. He hoped the similarities ended permanently now. Larry used his "death" to become a freelance murderer. Michael had a much different life in mind, a life far removed from his past.

The cash and passports were handed over to the captain. The price had been negotiated in Miami. The CIA had been generous. He received a "severance" package, of sorts, which included a cash settlement, as well as, a passport and supporting documents under a new name. With those parting gifts, he was now free to travel, free to make a new life for himself. But as Fiona had pointed out on more than one occasion, the CIA 's help always came with strings attached. As long as they were involved, things tended to be more complicated, a lesson that Michael Westen had finally learned. Keeping those documents, using those documents, and the CIA would be able to track his whereabouts. There was no assurance that he wouldn't be needed again, compelled to complete some mission, his new family used as leverage. He had to be sure that was not going to be possible.

Part of the negotiated payment was for the passports of "Michael Wilson" and "Kelly Minch" to take a trip without their owners. Passports had value on the black market. Michael didn't care if they were sold, given to friends, or just kept by the crew. What was important was that they made their way to some South American country, officially stamped, laying a trail away from their actual destination. Michael liked the idea of the CIA showing up one day, perhaps surprising some rancher on an alpaca farm in Peru!

The funds from the CIA had already been cleaned by Barry in an effort to prevent tracking Michael that way. He was told it was Michael's death benefit, the beneficiary, Charles Westen. He was not told of Michael's actual fate and had even attended his "funeral". Whether he actually believed Michael was dead was not discussed. What was clear to him was Fiona's need to protect Charlie, her need for a fresh start, her need for access to her money, as well as, any monies funneled to her from Michael and Madeline. So, he did his "Barry magic", set up temporary accounts, laundered the necessary funds, and waited until Fiona was ready to establish permanent accounts.

Their business transaction complete, the lone passenger disembarked and the boat quickly left the marina, the crew wanting to distance themselves as soon as possible. Michael was relieved to be free of his hosts, relieved to be on his own again. He underestimated how difficult it would be operating in the field with a child but began to relax as he strolled from the recreational marina to the larger port. He was more in his element, secure that he could rely on his skills.

At the port he soon found the long term parking area. He usually found it to be a good source when "borrowing" a car. There were a wide variety of cars to choose from, the owners hopefully out to sea on a 3 to 7 day excursion, and the strong likelihood that the car would not even be discovered missing until it usefulness was spent and the car abandoned in another location. The trick was looking for clues to see which cars may have been recently parked. Michael was looking for an older, popular model in a nondescript color without any alarms or security devices. He also found it to cause less attention if he looked like someone who couldn't remember where he parked rather than trying to stay inconspicuous. Security guards usually didn't want to participate in a car treasure hunt. The more lost he looked, the more likely they would hunker down in their cubicles.

Michael found several possibilities but hesitated to commit because all his choices lacked the one feature he needed to have- a car seat for a three year old. Apparently, the demographics for this embarkation point did not include toddlers, at least not at this time of year. The last thing that they needed was to be pulled over for breaking the child restraint law. So, Michael improvised, formulating a Plan B.

A white sedan was selected and hot-wired. Security looked relieved from afar that the hapless tourist had finally found his car. Michael pulled out of the lot, entered the highway, and began a new quest. He needed to find a park, a market; somewhere a busy mother might leave her car unlocked, never suspecting her child's car seat would be some thief's prize. Within moments, Michael came upon a large chain toy store, a Mecca for young families, the parking lot full of minivans, SUVs, and Volvos each containing car seats of various shapes and sizes. One was quickly chosen at random. Michael dislodged it easily, threw it into the backseat, and was back on the highway headed toward the safe house on the beach.

As the two-hour mark approached, Fiona began to keep a vigil at the window. Charlie had taken a pair of toy trains from his backpack and made a track around his "castle". Fiona split her attention between Charlie, playing on the floor, and the road outside. She watched as a white sedan approached, recognizing Michael as he neared the house.

Relief coursed through her, pleased that things seemed to go according to plan. She stepped into the driveway, anxious to greet him. "Our mariner friends played nicely?"

"I think they decided it was better to have a wad of cash than a dead body to deal with and a woman with a grudge." Michael smiled as he exited the car. Fiona surveyed the car, her gaze falling on the back seat.

"What the hell is that?"

"It's a car seat."

"It's an infant seat."

"It's a car seat."

Fiona's irritation was rapidly growing. "Yes, a car seat for an infant. How do you expect Charlie to fit in that?"

Michael became defensive, clearly rattled by Fiona's attitude. "You said to get a car seat. You didn't say that there were different kinds."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I wasn't aware that you were spatially challenged." Her annoyance was evident in her demeanor and her voice. "If you took the time to look at it, you would see there is no way a three year old would fit into that seat."

Michael inspected the device and saw immediately the issue that Fiona was describing. Hands on his hips, Michael shook his head in dismay. "You're right. I was in a rush... the first lot...", he looked at Fiona and realized that she was in no mood for excuses. "Never mind."

"Let's get this inside. Maybe we can find a way to make it work." Fiona looked doubtful as she uttered these words.

Michael brought the seat inside, placing it in the center of the room. All three stood motionless, staring at the object. Michael and Fiona were trying to find a way to alter the contraption to meet their needs. They examined it from all angles, studying its construction and its materials. Finally, Michael's face lit up and he broke the silence, "Do we have any duct tape?" Forty-five minutes later, a makeshift booster seat was constructed from the base of the seat and severed parts of the infant carrier.

Fiona stood up and examined their handiwork. "Well, it isn't pretty but I suppose it will work." Charlie looked skeptical. They secured the makeshift "booster" into the back seat of the stolen car. Charlie settled himself inside and found it surprisingly comfortable. Once properly belted, he gave a thumbs up sign, and appeared ready to go. Michael and Fiona exchanged looks of surprise. They loaded the bags into the trunk, returned the house to its original condition, and then the trio headed for points north, eager to be on the move once again.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

A life on the run is fraught with difficulties. It's filled with strange places and faces, all of which may pose danger. It's difficult to keep paranoia at bay as you look for signs of recognition or betrayal.

Michael Westen may be deceased, but the man at the wheel of the white sedan had no identity. No one may be searching for him, but that did not necessarily mean that he was safe. One insignificant traffic stop could foil all their well-laid plans. Fiona was still considered very much alive. The story that Sam and Jesse planned to disseminate was that she was distraught, losing Michael forever in that fireball, without Madeline for consolation. She left Miami and its memories behind, planning to renew her partnership with some gunrunners south of the border. Her departure was sudden but understandable.

Then, there was Charlie. Michael was listed as Madeline's designated guardian for Charlie should anything happen to her. But Madeline, unsure of her son's whereabouts at any given time, had named Fiona as a secondary choice. Unfortunately, the courts work much more slowly than the speed dictated by the current situation. Michael could not stay in Miami for any length of time. If Fiona and Charlie were to accompany Michael in his exile, they needed to leave immediately. They had no idea of the fallout left behind, or even if any existed from their hurried departure from Miami. Their biggest concern was an Amber Alert be issued concerning the whereabouts of Charlie with Fiona being the suspected offender. So far, no sign of that had occurred. Perhaps, Sam and Jesse had intervened. They briefly mentioned approaching Strong again, explaining Charlie's- and therefore Fiona's- precarious situation, seeing if the CIA could intervene with the courts or alternatively, that Charlie be declared "dead", rather than missing. Strong assumed Fiona would travel with the newly dead spy, so Charlie was a bit of a loose end that needed to be tied up. Michael and Fiona had decided to play it safe, keep a low profile, and leave as little trail behind as possible.

It was a twelve-hour drive to their destination, fifteen if they stayed off the highways. Michael planned a route that kept to back roads. His preference was to drive at night or if that was not possible, at off peak hours. Michael had the first shift. His eyes were focused on the road ahead, always on guard. He was pleased with their progress but after a few hours, Charlie began to fidget. It began with just a series of constant movements, pushing against the restraints of his booster. Thrashing legs kicking against the seat soon followed it. Michael shot a look at Fi who returned his stare with a shrug of her shoulders and air of helplessness. Fiona turned toward Charlie, speaking softly, as she tried to ascertain the problem. But soothing words made no impact and soon Charlie began to wail. Neither adult was prepared for the blood curdling screams that began emanating from the back seat.

"Michael, pull over. Something's wrong. Maybe it's the seat." Fiona's concern deepened. She had never seen or heard Charlie in this state before. Michael looked for a place to stop, not wanting to attract attention on the road. He pulled into the parking lot of a roadside mini mall.

"Out! Out!" Charlie's cries were insistent. Fiona crawled into the back seat and released Charlie from the booster. He climbed onto her, craving the comfort of her touch, his sobs subsiding after a few moments, his body shuddering as his breathing returned to normal.

Michael watched his nephew's transformation, unable to account for the quick change in his behavior, relieved to see him return back to himself. "We should get going, Fi. You, okay, Charlie?"

"No, he's not okay, Michael. He's exhausted. We're all exhausted. We all need a cooked meal, a hot shower, and a good night's sleep in an actual bed."

"Fi..."

"I know. We need to keep going. I do understand." She looked at Michael, shaking her head subtly, realizing their plans needed to adapt to the changing situation. Michael began to realize the logic of her suggestion. They were all running on fumes, the past few days taking a toll on all of them. Charlie may have reached his breaking point first but all of them were precariously close to the edge.

Michael took a deep breath. "There's a town up ahead. Less than an hour. We'll find a motel for the night. Have dinner. Maybe even some frozen yogurt for dessert. How does that sound, Charlie?"

Charlie gave Michael a weak smile, which seemed to indicate he agreed with the new plan. "How about I stay back here with you?" Fiona spoke to Charlie as she dried his tears and guided him back toward his booster. Once settled, he took her hand, clutching it tightly, needing her to stay near. Michael returned to the wheel anxious to be back on the road, anxious to find a place of refuge for the night.

A mid-size town came into view just as Michael promised. A small well-maintained motel on the outskirts of town lifted everyone's spirits. Cash was paid, a key was given, some luggage deposited, and hope was restored. A local diner provided the backdrop for a family meal. A rousing game of paper Battleship between Fiona and Team Westen ensued while waiting for their order. Charlie watched intently as grids were drawn on paper napkins. He listened as Michael described how to select coordinates and Fiona discussed tactical maneuvers. Charlie had no idea what either of them was talking about but he enjoyed their repartee, their loving competitiveness. Soon, he was choosing letters and numbers without any sense of the game Michael and Fiona "thought" he was playing with them. There were smiles and laughter around the table. He felt safe, secure, almost happy. Charlie's good humor was restored. A hot dog with mustard, fries, and a tall glass of chocolate milk disappeared from his plate. Much to Michael's dismay, there wasn't frozen yogurt, but, luckily, there was strawberry ice cream to top off the meal. A sense of normalcy had returned to Charlie's life, if only for this brief moment of time.

It wasn't long after their return to the motel that a freshly bathed Charlie began to yawn, stretched out in the middle of the queen-sized bed, his uncle laying beside him. Fiona finished drying her hair and then joined the two, snuggling next to Charlie, the two adults acting as bookends safeguarding their charge. Sleep soon overtook him. For several minutes, Michael and Fiona watched the sleeping child. Then, their eyes lifted simultaneously, searching out each other.

"I can honestly say I never envisioned our first time back in bed together being quite like this." Fiona eyes reflected amusement at this usual situation.

Michael's eyes were soft, his grin large. "I suppose not."

She looked back at Charlie, gently stroking his hair, avoiding Michael's stare, feeling unsettled by the wave of emotion she saw in his eyes which easily matched her own. "I called Sean." Michael looked surprised. "I thought...maybe...we have to go somewhere...he's checking on the situation..." Fiona stammered slightly, her eyes lowered not wanting to see his reaction.

He nodded. "It's a good idea. We decided on EU passports. Lots of mobility. We both know our way around. Calling Sean was a good first step. When do you expect to hear from him?"

"Couple of days. I'll get in touch with my ID guy the moment we set foot in the city. Whether or not we settle there, it could be a useful cover for our new identities. We know the landscape. We know the culture. We speak the language. It could work." Obviously, Fiona had given the matter a great deal of consideration. Michael followed her train of thought easily. She expected more hesitation from him and was somewhat startled by his agreement.

Michael reached out, cupping the side of her face with his hand. "If I have learned anything over the past seven years, Fi, it's how important family is. I've lost most of mine. There's no reason you should. Charlie needs that. We need that- if it's possible."

Fiona agreed, "If it's possible..." She let the words drift away.

Leaning over Charlie's sleeping form, their lips met. Fiona pulled away slightly, whispering as to not wake Charlie, "You know, the bed may be occupied, but the bathroom's free..." Michael met her smile with one of his own as they wordlessly, and silently, left the bed. Hand in hand, they entered the small room, seeking some privacy, shutting the door securely behind them.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Every operative knows the importance of down time. It's easy to lose sight of that fact when in the midst of a situation. Yesterday's events forced a reevaluation of their travel plans, much to everyone's benefit. The day dawned a little brighter. The respite, however brief, fulfilled everyone's needs, preparing them for the day ahead.

Michael, always an early riser, had the foresight to surprise Fiona and Charlie with breakfast in bed. After a quick stop at the diner, Michael returned laden with food- an order of pancakes, a Spanish omelet, egg whites only, and some blueberry yogurt. A couple of coffees and some apple juice rounded out the feast. As he entered the room, he found Fiona languishing in bed while Charlie's attention was drawn to a large purple dinosaur on the television.

He set breakfast on the small table beside the window. Fiona raised herself up on her elbow watching him intently. Charlie jumped up, rushing to see what might be in the styrofoam containers. "Pancakes!" A happy shout as he opened the box set before him.

Michael looked over at Fiona, "Sleep well?"

"Better than I have in a year." A sly smile formed on her lips.

"Is there any syrup?" Charlie's voice interrupted the moment; drawing attention back to the toddler, spurring all to consume their meal, begin their journey anew.

Lessons gleaned from yesterday were implemented. The drive was broken into shorter segments, allowing brief activities to amuse Charlie, and in some cases, to tire him out.

There was a stop to take some photos, photos that would be needed for replacement passports. Some extra burners were purchased, useful for the days ahead. When hunger hit, a fast food restaurant was found, Charlie anxious for a meal with a toy. The hamburger was set aside as the toy package was opened with great anticipation. From out of the wrapper, a blue plastic article emerged.

"Wow! An intergalactic star gun!" his glee apparent as he examined the object.

"A star gun? It doesn't even have a trigger." Fiona took the piece from Charlie, turning it over, and handing it to Michael, who also inspected the prize.

"No place for a clip either," added Michael.

Charlie grabbed it away from his uncle as he explained how it shot laser beams when you pressed the top button.

"Well, I suppose it cuts down on the need for ammo but I'm not sure it's practical in the field." Fiona and Michael looked at each other, questioning the gun's design, while Charlie set his treasure aside and devoured his meal.

There were also multiple potty stops along the way as Charlie soon learned those magic words seemed to elicit an immediate response, providing him a chance to be freed of the bondage of the booster seat, at least temporarily. It also gave him the opportunity to see as many restrooms as possible in service stations, fast food restaurants, and highway rest areas. Why that seemed interesting to him was beyond the understanding of his guardians and Fiona and Michael began to realize that they were being played, powerless, under the control of a three year old's bladder.

As late afternoon approached, they grabbed some sandwiches and headed to a park. The leaves were beginning to turn, the air brisk, a welcome change from the stuffiness of the confined space of the car. Charlie spotted a playground filled with things to climb, acres of sand, swings to soar through the sky, and children his own age to engage. He began to run ahead, then stopped short, turning to the two slower moving adults behind him, waiting for permission.

"Go ahead. We'll catch up." Michael saw the joy on his face, remembering that feeling from long ago. He and Fiona settled themselves on a bench bordering the play area. They watched Charlie flit from one piece of equipment to another. His boundless energy had found an outlet giving the others an interlude of relaxation. He finally focused on the task of climbing up the slide, slow and cautious at first, then gaining confidence and speed. He repeated the activity several times. Once mastering the skill, he was ready to move on.

His attention was drawn to a small group nearby the swings. He meandered toward them, standing on the fringe.

An older woman with a smiling face and graying hair watched his approach. "Hi, there. We're digging a hole to China. Want to help?" She held out a red shovel, the same type the two little girls next to her wielded.

Fiona hustled over to the scene. "You must be mom. Just inviting your son here to help my granddaughters and I with this hole. We could use the help." The woman was clearly comfortable with the company and activity. Charlie joined in without hesitation and the three children began to chat while digging.

"Thanks." Fiona returned to Michael's side, both on alert, eyes fixed on Charlie and his newly discovered friends.

Fiona's face was solemn. "He misses her." There was no need for Fiona to explain to whom she was referring. Michael stared straight ahead, not wanting to dredge up emotions better kept buried.

"I never really thanked you for all that you did for her after I left." Michael was still unable to meet her gaze.

"I didn't do it for you." Fiona tried to keep her voice from cracking, tried to keep her emotions at bay.

There was nothing left to say, not here, not now. Madeline's absence was a constant reminder of all that was lost. Michael remembered his mother's words, once spoken about a different situation, but applying even more personally now. _"When someone blasts a hole in your life, it tends to stay open." _He realized how true these words were. Just as he was lost in these morose thoughts, Charlie turned and waved, his smile filling that empty space in his heart.

The park had been a stroke of genius! Charlie fell asleep almost immediately, lulled by the motion of the car. Michael was a little frustrated by their haltingly slow progress. He couldn't help but think that if he and Fi had been able to tag team the driving, they would have been there hours ago. The presence of a child altered everything about this journey. Michael usually so confident, now found himself often at a loss, needing to consult with Fiona on every move, not that she had much more expertise than he. He realized that her time spent with Madeline over the past several months had given her some measure of knowledge regarding Charlie's care. "Mary Poppins" she wasn't, but Madeline had clearly influenced Fiona. His mom would be proud to see her tutelage was not wasted.

It was nearly midnight by the time they arrived. Fiona knew of a place near the airport that took cash and did not ask questions. License plates from around the country were readily spotted, raising no alarms. The car would blend in when the time came to abandon it. Public transportation was nearby making a journey into the city effortless.

Michael cradled the sleeping child, making his way to the assigned room, laying him gently on the bed once the door was unlocked. Fiona remained in the car. Using one of the recently purchased burners, she dialed the number of her ID contact. Criminals in that line of work were used to getting calls at all hours of the night.

Fiona renewed her acquaintance when he picked up, her name providing recognition and more than a little anxiety on the other end of the line. She explained her situation, what was required, and was told what was needed to fulfill her order. The cost was negotiated, neither one completely satisfied with the price, but both acknowledging it was acceptable, if not optimal. Fiona also discussed her transportations needs, wondering if any information could be had in that arena. A contact was available-for an additional fee. The meet was set up for the next day. Progress made on all fronts.

By the time Fiona had made it upstairs, she found both boys sound asleep, still dressed, Charlie's head resting on Michael's shoulder. She watched them for a while before slipping in beside them and joining in their dreams.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

"Don't look at me like that. I'll be fine." Fiona was checking her weapons while Charlie was in the bathroom. Michael did not like the idea that Fiona had to meet Dawson without backup. "Besides you might be in more danger here." She pointed to the little boy emerging from the other room. "Have fun you, two." And with that she was off.

Michael had faced Spetsnaz forces, African warlords, Middle Eastern insurgents, and countless adversaries over the years, but none of his training or experience had adequately prepared him for this moment. He found himself actually sweating, feeling very uneasy, possibly even afraid. He was alone with his nephew for the first time and had no idea what to do. Michael stood there, hands on his hips, staring down at the three-year old. Charlie sat cross-legged on the floor, his elbows resting on his knees, his chin resting on closed fists, staring up at his uncle. Neither spoke, each waiting for the other to make the first move. Michael finally broke the silence.

"Let's see what's on TV. Maybe that purple monster is on." He picked up the remote control, hoping to find something that might appeal to the youngster.

"Barney's not a monster. He's a dinosaur!" Charlie giggled at his Uncle Michael's limited knowledge.

Michael flipped through the channels when Charlie let out a squeal, "Yo Gabba Gabba!"

He took that as a positive sign and sat beside his nephew, joining him on the floor. Charlie began to clap and sing. A strange set of colorful characters confronted him. The storyline was simplistic and pointless in Michael's view. Charlie was mesmerized. Michael was horrified. He wondered about Charlie, if being drawn to this type of entertainment was normal. He decided on a new course of action.

"I have a better idea. Let's play with your trains." Michael had observed Charlie often clutching a small train in each hand. He made imaginary tracks on the floor, sometimes in the air. Charlie jumped at the chance to play with his trains- and his uncle. He rushed over to his backpack, found his precious toys, and returned to the place on the carpet.

Charlie looked at the trains, one in each hand, deciding which one to keep, and which one to give to Michael. He struggled with the decision, eventually handing him the red one. "I have Thomas and you have James."

"James." Michael winced at the name and the memory. "They have names? Maybe I can call mine Bob."

Charlie vigorously shook his head. "This is Thomas. He is the bestest engine. He helps his friends. He doesn't give up. Thomas is my favorite." Charlie held the train lovingly as he explained some of Thomas' exploits with Percy, Gordon, and a litany of other trains. He pointed to the train that Michael was holding. "That's James. See he's red. Sometimes he can be naughty. He thinks he's smarter and stronger than any of the other trains. He's not always a good friend."

"Of course. James. Maybe you have another train I could use?" Michael didn't want to give 'James' any space in his head, not even as a toy. Charlie looked crestfallen, afraid that Uncle Michael had changed his mind about playing trains. Michael saw the change in Charlie's expression. "James, it is."

Charlie look pleased, "Maybe we can trade later. Come on, let's go." Charlie and 'Thomas' began to move about the room crawling on hands and knees. Michael and 'James' followed close behind. It was going to be a long afternoon.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx 

Dawson was a master at paper. She was introduced to the forger through Armand, a phase of her life she would rather forget. Although their relationship had concluded, he was always willing to help- if the price was right. Radical splinter groups emerged as the Army held to the Agreement and began to dissolve. Those bastards tried to recruit her, use her reputation and skills for their own purposes, ones not built on freedom and justice, but on pain and terror. She knew it was time to leave. Armand's money and Dawson's talents allowed her to do just that.

Fiona knew her way around the city, easily navigating through its streets. When she first arrived in the US, this is where she settled. It was easy to blend into a crowd of 8 million and she had already developed contacts that would prove useful in her new venture. Money poured into the cause from America, descendants of immigrants that had long departed their homeland still felt ties to the Green. Those funds were often used to purchase guns from markets about the world. As the situation at home became less volatile, Agreements forged and kept, she began to act more as a broker, a middleman, of sorts. She knew how to procure all sorts of weapons. Out of necessity, she learned how to smuggle this type of contraband effectively. She also discovered who had the financial resources to pay for her services. Fourteen years in the Army had given her a certain skill set, once established in the US, it became time for her to use those skills to create a business of her own. Fiona reminisced about her time here as a shining star on the black market when the world seemed to be before her, until a phone call from Miami changed her life, mostly for the better.

She hadn't been down these streets in years but not much had changed. She found the auto repair shop without much difficulty. Dawson must have watched her approach through surveillance cameras. She was ushered through the shop and into the back where the real business took place.

"Fiona Glenanne. What's it been, ten years?" Dawson extended his hand.

"Well, nine actually, close enough." Fiona was not here to catch up. She brought the conversation to the problem at hand. "I explained the situation on the phone. Here's the list of information you said you needed, stats, photos." She handed over the documents.

Dawson presumed them quickly. "You know, the kid makes this more complicated."

"That's just a fact that we're going to have to deal with. It's not like we can leave him behind." Fiona glared.

"Yours?"

Fiona didn't answer, "Can you do this, or not?"

Dawson recognized an attitude he did not want to be on the receiving end of. She always seemed a bit unstable to him but she kept her agreements, providing him with a steady stream of cash once upon a time. "Yeah."

"How long before the documents are ready?"

"Few days. I've got a couple of clients ahead of you. Once I get started, it won't take long."

"What would it take to move this job to the top of your to-do list?"

Dawson chuckled softly, pondered the question thoughtfully, "An extra fifty G's you'll have them tomorrow."

"Done. My associate, the man in the photos there, may be doing the honors. Word of warning: Don't cross him. He's had a bad week, actually more like a bad year. But if you think I'm dangerous, I'm practically Mother Theresa compared to him." With that, Fiona stormed out, leaving Dawson alone to reflect on her warning.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx 

Fiona entered the room, one glance at the pair and she closed the door behind her silently. "How did everything go?" her voice barely a whisper.

"Exhausting." Michael indicated Charlie's sleeping form. "I've been tortured with less resulting pain than an afternoon playing trains with a three-year old. So, how'd it go with Dawson?"

Fiona plopped on the chair, grabbing a yogurt from the table. "Could have been better. I had to put rush on it."

"How much did that cost us?" Michael's face was full of concern.

"An extra fifty."

"I'm not sure we can swing that, Fi, there's still transport, supplies..."

Fiona interrupted, stopping him mid sentence, "I've got the money, Michael." She saw the puzzlement on his face as she continued; "I got it from Sam, well, Elsa actually. Apparently, she was very concerned. You, dead, me going on the run with a child. She pulled money from her safe at the hotel. Sam gave it to me on the beach. He said that Elsa knew how hard it was to be a single parent under the best of circumstances. Under these conditions..." Fiona hesitated. "I was going to refuse but then Sam said, 'You better take this, sister. If you don't Elsa's gonna be on my ass.' Then he mentioned something about his Sammy-time being affected and I stopped listening."

Michael smiled wistfully, thinking of his friend, missing his company. "Yeah. That sounds like Sam." The two looked at one another feeling the hole left by Sam's absence.

Thoughts of home and all that had been lost were quickly set aside as Charlie, fresh from his nap, asked, " Want to play trains again, Uncle Michael?" Michael's eyes grew wide as he grappled for an answer. " I would love to. Unfortunately, I need to book passage on a ship. Fi will play." With that, he hurriedly exited, hearing Fiona's voice calling after him.

"Michael, get back here..." Her words received no reply. Michael had successfully made his escape.

**A/N: Thank you for the kind words. Your encouragement is truly appreciated, giving me the will to carry on :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Michael had made a few calls of his own, following up on the leads Dawson provided. He was meeting some union bigwig down at the docks who had the power to make decisions that could benefit all concerned. For Michael and company that meant getting out of the country quietly, for Mr. Union Boss that meant lining his pockets with a little something extra.

Rarely ever relaxed, Michael found himself more anxious than usual. He had tried this route before without success. He was well aware of the fact that "_If you need to leave the country quietly one of the best methods is getting hired onto the crew of a cargo ship. Ports have so much internal oversight including months of background checks and union wait lists, the police don't pay much attention." _His previous attempt at this exit strategy resulted in a bullet wound for Sam and a painful incarceration for Jesse. This time he was walking into the situation cold, without backup. He kept the details of this meeting from Fiona, knowing that she would declare it too risky. This was the most logical avenue to pursue, the other being a phone call to Armand, using one of his private jets for escape. Calling Armand was not going to happen, an option Michael eliminated immediately.

Michael found the office easily. Mr. Sheehan was a beefy guy, likely a former longshoreman who had risen through the ranks. Neither felt the need for idle chitchat, so they got right to the business at hand.

"You Dawson's friend?"

"We have a mutual acquaintance." Michael wanted to keep the relationship as vague as possible. "As I explained on the phone, I have a situation. Custody problem. My wife, she's from overseas, wants to be close to her mother. She's got a kid, deadbeat dad who left her high and dry, suddenly wants to be father-of-the-year." Michael paused, shaking his head, "I'm the only father that boy has known. I can't let this jack ass screw up my family, you know?" Michael played the sympathy card, now he waited to see if it worked.

"I hear you." He stared at Michael a long time, sizing him up, trying to figure out if Michael was telling the truth. There was enough truth there for Michael to be believable.

"You're in luck. I had a guy all set to go out on a cargo ship day after tomorrow. Got nicked after a bar fight in Brooklyn. Ports of call in Cork, Southampton, Le Havre, and Hamburg. Spot's yours if you got the cash. We can put the lady on as kitchen help. Can she cook?"

Michael winced, "Her cooking skills are limited but for the kid, she'll learn."

"Crew needs to be on board by tomorrow at midnight or before. We leave as soon as we get cleared the next morning. It would be better if the kid stayed out of sight until we're in international waters. Less chance of trouble. I'll need your passports and the rest of the money before you board."

A handshake sealed the deal, a deposit handed over. Michael hoped that this time, there would be no surprises.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

While Michael was finding a way across the sea that did not include swimming or building a raft, both suggestions proposed by Charlie, Fiona was staring at a phone willing it to ring. Charlie was contentedly playing alone while Fiona tried to focus on the latest issue of "Guns & Ammo". Her thoughts scattered, her concentration nonexistent, she tried not to pin her hopes on a dream.

The ringing of a phone pierced the air. Fiona rushed to answer it, a familiar voice on the line.

"I've checked about. Seems like clear days ahead." Sean sounded confident.

Fiona required reassurance. She could not put Charlie at risk. "You sure?"

"That I am. Everybody's too bloody worried about what's coming to care much about what's past." Sean had spoken to every source he could think of on both sides of the border. He even condescended to have a pint, or two, with some of the more radical elements searching for any wisp of danger. When her name did come up, it was not for past deeds but a glass was raised for her current ones. "Some here are hearing rumors about one of our own blowing up the British Consulate in Miami not long ago. Heard the one spent a spot of time in prison before escaping, before those bastards from the "Home Office" could have a chat. Now, they are wondering if the recent troubles there may be more of the same."

Fiona stayed silent on her end as Sean's tone turned serious. "Besides, it seems the biggest obstacle is gone. Your man, the American, dead, is he?"

"Buried." Her voice was flat, void of emotion. There was a long pause. Sean seemed unsure how to respond. As she continued a bit of life entered her words. "But it might be best if we were away from old haunts."

A smile crossed Sean's face as he caught the message.

"And the boyos who visited me a while ago?" Fiona probed Sean further.

"Never really had a chance to tell what they knew. Sent to a dark hole the moment they arrived. Most met an untimely end. No worries on that front." He heard a deep sigh from the woman on the other end of the line. "Time to come home."

"Tis." A simple word carrying weight and promise.

"Know when you might be coming? I suppose you'll be wanting me to find you a house."

"That I will. A place as far from Belfast as possible. Maybe Beara or Inveragh."

"Perhaps another would be better suited for the task of choosing. All I'd be looking for is a bed and a toilet. You might be wanting a bit more."

"I lived for two years without much more than that. Not even air conditioning - in Miami." She became thoughtful. "If there's someone you trust to find us a place..."

"Someone we both trust. Someone who raised seven of her own. Someone who knows what a boy might be needing." Sean spoke gently, stating the obvious, allowing Fiona to draw the same conclusion. He took her silence for agreement; Fiona was too overwhelmed for further dialogue. Sean continued, "Right then. Text me the where and the when. I'll do the rest. _Slan_."

_"Slan go foill."_ She ended the call feeling closer to home than she had in a long time.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Michael had a full day of errands, first the docks, now to Dawson's. Michael strode purposefully, with confidence and swagger. He hoped that the seed of fear Fiona had planted in Dawson's mind had time to germinate. He wanted to avoid trouble, but carrying a large amount of cash, dealing with a criminal alone, without backup, all set up a potential for difficulty.

Just as before, Dawson watched the approach through his security cameras, opening the door as Michael approached. Dawson locked the doors behind them. Michael's guard was up. He menacingly moved this jacket aside, slowly placing his hand near his weapon, sending a silent message to his host.

"I don't want any trouble. Your friend, Fiona, she once threatened to make a steak and kidney pie with my own kidneys! I believed her!" Dawson was clearly rattled.

"You should. I've seen her do worse." Michael's face hardened. "The papers ready?"

"As promised." He handed the passports and documents to Michael for his review. "These are state of the art, seals, chips, they'll get you wherever you want to go. Hopefully, far, far, away."

Michael inspected the passports, learning who he was to be for the rest of his life: Padraig Michael O' Donovan. Then, he opened the others: Fionnuala Roisin O'Donovan, Charles Gerald O' Donovan. Next, he examined the documents, three birth certificates - and a certificate of marriage. That last page gave him a slight wave of nausea but he shook it off, knowing this situation required a clear head.

Michael tossed him the agreed upon sum, adding, "These better be as good as you say or I'm coming back, you know, for your kidneys."

Dawson blanched at the words, quickly unlocking the door allowing Michael to exit the building. As soon as he was clear, Michael called Sheehan giving him the names, numbers, and country of issuance of the passports so that they could be entered on the crew roster. Several thousand dollars lighter but possessing the documents to travel, Michael headed back across the river, ready to join his "wife" and "son". The O'Donovan family was born.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

Arriving back at the hotel, a bottle of wine in one hand, the precious documents in the other, Michael thought a little celebration was in order. Fiona breathed a sigh of relief when he walked through the door. She hated being sidelined, wanting to be with him on every task, providing backup as needed.

"Finally!" She noticed the wine, wondering about its purchase. "Wine? Are we celebrating or drowning our sorrows?"

Michael set the bottle down, took a corkscrew out of his jacket pocket, and popped the cork. "Who says it can't be both?"

Fiona found two glasses and pointed to Charlie's sleeping form. "He wanted to stay awake until you got back. He gave out about 20 minutes ago." Michael went over to the bed, lifting the covers that had slipped off his shoulders. Fiona poured, filling the glasses, handing one to Michael, waiting for him to inform her of the day's events.

Michael sat down, the tension leaving his body. "Found a cargo ship willing to take us on. Crossing takes about a week with ports of call at Cork, Southampton, Le Havre, and Hamburg. We can cover the cost. Leaves in two days but we need to be on board before midnight tomorrow." Fiona took a sip, processing the information she was encouraged by the information.

"You always wanted to go to Paris together. I guess, now's our chance." Michael looked pleased as he presented Fiona with this option.

Fiona closed her eyes, pondering the possibilities. "Paris sounds lovely. Maybe we'll go in the spring. Paris is beautiful in the spring!" She met his eyes. "I spoke to Sean..."

"And?" Michael's curiosity was piqued.

"And, he said it was time to come home." Fiona summarized her conversation with Sean. Ireland may not be the perfect choice but perhaps that simply didn't exist. They both had worked all over Europe, making friends and enemies along the way. Wherever they settled, there would be danger; it was unavoidable given their individual and combined histories. At least, in Ireland they would not be completely alone. Fiona's family would protect their privacy, have ears to the ground should rumors arise.

Michael said nothing for several minutes, as Fiona's apprehension mounted, wondering what Michael was thinking. He feigned seriousness finally admitting, "I'm really going to miss ice in my tea."

Fiona smiled, "I'll find some way to make it up to you." They clinked their glasses together, a toast to the future.

"Oh, I almost forgot. Dawson came through." He handed over the file of documents. "You made quite an impression on him. What exactly did you do to him?" Fiona had an evil grin on her face causing Michael to quickly add, "Never mind. I'm not sure I want to know."

Fiona turned her attention to the three European Union Irish Passports in her hands. She opened the first. "O'Donovan. How appropriate." Michael looked at her quizzically. "O'Donovan. It's a West Cork name. It's like you're returning to your roots." He still wasn't following her train of thought, so she explained, "We're disembarking in Cork, so..." Michael finally understood the cryptic connection, not really caring about Irish genealogy.

The second passport was opened next, her own. A small sigh escaped her lips as she confessed, "I must admit that a part of me was hoping to be a McBride." She winked at the man by her side. Before Michael could make a comment, she continued, "Fionnuala. Close enough. I can even still be 'Fi'. And, look, I'm two years younger. I think Dawson's trying to get on my good side."

Then she opened Charlie's, "Gerald?" She grimaced. Setting the passports aside, she inspected the rest of the documents, pausing at the certificate of marriage. "Well, I trust it was a nice ceremony." A part of her had hoped that one day, she and Michael might actually decide to take the plunge. Fate had intervened, a false marriage, a true love.

She gulped some of her wine as Michael gazed at her lovingly, unsure how to respond. They finished their wine, lost in their own thoughts.

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Charlie was up at the crack of dawn. Sandwiched between the adults, he made his way to a sitting position, and stared at the two still asleep, willing them to wake up. It wasn't long before both reacted, feeling a presence. Michael and Fiona, nearly simultaneously, reached under their pillows, looking for guns that weren't there, having made the decision that sharing a bed with a three-year old and a 9mm was a terrible idea. They sprung up, ready to face the intruder, weaponless. Instead of a threat, they found a giggling boy who noted, "You're silly!" Fully awake, adrenaline coursing through their bodies, Fiona and Michael joined in the laughter, partly in relief, partly in the realization of just how much their lives had changed.

It was an unusual start to their last day in the US, possibly never to return. There was a great deal to accomplish before boarding the ship. An inventory of what was currently in their possession, the purchase of supplies for the journey and beyond, and the chance for indulging in some activities impossible aboard ship. Charlie longed for another park day, Michael wanted the opportunity to go on a long run, and Fiona was desperate for a final pedicure. Before they started on the errands, Fiona wordlessly indicated that now might be the time to talk to Charlie. Michael, clearly dreading this moment, knowing it was unavoidable.

He looked directly at Charlie, starting slowly, "I promised to keep you safe...my mom…we need to take a trip..." His thoughts were jumbled, his words clipped, as he tried to explain the unexplainable. He sought Fiona's help, imploring her with his eyes to make this conversation make sense.

Fiona took over, "Charlie, remember those scary men back at the house?" Charlie nodded. "We have to be sure they can never find us. We're going on a big ship. One with beds, and bathrooms, everything we need for a few days."

"Is it a pirate ship?"

"Not exactly. It's carrying things like cars and cereal and people." She waited while Charlie was thinking about this.

"And trains?" He added.

"Possibly." Not a likely cargo, but the idea certainly appealed to Charlie. "The thing is, we have to play a game, we have to pretend. We have to pretend we're different people." She looked at Michael indicating it was his turn to enter the conversation.

Charlie was clearly confused. "Can I pretend to be Thomas?"

Michael took a breath, fearing Fiona's wrath if he hesitated. "No, Charlie. We have to pretend to be a family. Our name is going to be O'Donovan instead of Westen. Fi is going to pretend to be your mother. I'm going to..." His words caught in his throat, thinking of Nate, feeling somehow he was betraying his memory.

"Oh, you want to play house!" Charlie's face brightened, as he finally understood the game.

"House, yes, we're going to play house!" Michael relaxed a bit. This wasn't going as badly as he envisioned.

"Can I be the dog?" Charlie asked.

Fiona and Michael looked at one another, both sighed heavily, realizing perhaps a little more explanation was required.

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The morning was filled with those desired activities. An exercised Michael, a contented Charlie, and a freshly pedicured Fiona, took inventory of what they carried in their bags. Decisions were made on what to discard and what to purchase. Mental lists at the ready, they arrived at an immense store, which housed a bit of everything. As they entered the building, they were immediately accosted by the smell of fried food, making Charlie hungry, the adults slightly queasy. Michael lifted Charlie into a wagon, Fiona grabbed another for the actual goods and they set off through the aisles.

Warm clothing was the priority. A jacket, some long sleeve shirts, extra socks and underwear, some with trains, others with dinosaurs, were piled into the cart for Charlie. More of the same were gathered for Michael although his boxers were devoid of characters. Fiona approached the women's section with some trepidation. Her taste tended to be more eclectic, her clothing often purchased from trendy boutiques. She held the shirt at arms length, studying it with care, and then tossing it into the cart with some degree of resignation. The rest of her acquisitions followed a similar pattern but eventually she found all that she needed.

Navigating the aisles crowded with shoppers much like themselves, they eventually found some books and magazines to add to the growing heap. Practical items like batteries, duct tape, and a small tool kit were added. Some of Charlie's favorite snack foods made it into the cart- some goldfish, fruit snacks, and several jars of peanut butter to wean him off of his addiction slowly. It wasn't that peanut butter couldn't be found at their final destination, but it wasn't as readily available. They wanted Charlie to have access to this comfort food as long as possible as he was adapting to his new life.

As they neared the check stand, Fiona made a short detour, picking up two small plastic pouches, one containing a bunch of small, colorful dinosaurs, the other a package of army men. Michael picked them out of the cart, giving her a questioning look.

"What? Your mom once told me to go with what I know. I know army men. He knows dinosaurs. We'll learn from each other. It'll be fun." She said this with such an air of confidence, Michael set them back down, impressed with her idea.

As Charlie inspected the package, Fiona pulled Michael aside, her voice low, barely audible. "Charlie's birthday is in a few days. I need you to go back to the toy aisle. Find him a couple of things. Don't forget wrapping paper. Madeline wanted this day to be special. It won't be as she imagined it, but we can make it a celebration."

"What should I get?" Michael look lost.

"I don't know. Look around. Remember what your mom told me. It'll be fine." She gave him a reassuring look. "Charlie and I are going to have a snack while you finish up. Meet you at the car?" She didn't wait for a response before steering the cart containing Charlie away.

With a heavy sigh, Michael returned to the toy aisle. He was in sensory overload at the wide array of choices. Some things were too large, others too noisy, the vast majority of items simply looked too uninteresting. But eventually, something caught his eye. He held the box in his hands thinking about Fiona's, and his mom's, suggestion. Go with what you know. He placed the box, "Spy Guy: Secret Mission Set" into the cart, wondering if this was what the women meant. He added a couple of model airplane kits and headed for the register.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

_"The most dangerous time in an operation is when everything is coming together. You never know if you are about to get a pat on the back or a bullet to the back of the head." _These thoughts ran through Michael's head as the time for their departure drew near. All the errands complete, it was time to take stock, pack up their remaining possessions, and move onward. Michael deposited his family and the luggage at the airport arrivals area. Then, he dumped the makeshift car seat, drove the vehicle he "borrowed" to long term parking, avoiding the security cameras, and abandoned it hoping it would eventually be found and returned to its rightful owners. Within minutes, he returned. Bags in tow, they hailed a taxi for the short drive to the Port Newark marine terminal. Appearing to be simply a family headed on a cruise, the driver paid little attention to his passengers, more interested in the game on the radio. He barely gave them a second glance as Michael paid the fare.

Both adults scanned the area while trying to appear nonchalant. Moving forklifts, enormous cranes, and the bustle of moving trucks fascinated Charlie. Fiona used his excitement as a ruse to keep her eyes focused on everything and everyone around them as Michael made the final arrangements.

This was the most vulnerable part of their journey. There were really no exits points, no way to shoot out an effective escape. They just had to have faith Sheehan had not gotten a better offer, that the cash they offered was enough, that he was a man of his word. Michael was very on edge. This is where things went awry the last time he had tried to flee the country in this manner.

Sheehan came from behind his desk to greet him. He glanced out the window asking, "That your family? Cute kid. Got four of my own." He seemed relaxed but Michael did not let his guard down. "Passports." It was a statement, not a question. Michael handed them over. Sheehan recorded numbers, checked the manifest, completed the paperwork, and then, returned the precious documents. "Looks like we're all set. Last order of business, then I'll bring you over to the berth, get you on your way." Michael handed over an envelope thick with cash. Sheehan took it, scanned its contents, and locked it away. With a chuckle he added, "That will get my oldest through his first year of college. Trust me, buddy, start saving now." With that, he escorted Michael out of the building. Together, the four of them headed to the ship. Sheehan even carrying one of the bags, so that Fiona could carry Charlie, worried that an active port site was a little dangerous for a youngster.

Arriving at the ship, Sheehan introduced the newly added crew to those milling about. It was not the first time Sheehan had "hired" last minute help. The crew knew the drill. Later, some actual passengers would board, cargo ships providing a low cost way to cruise, lacking frills but giving great value. A final handshake, a call of "Good Luck", and Sheehan headed back to his office while Michael, Fiona, and Charlie took their last steps on American soil. Michael was handed a key card to their cabin and given directions to its location. The ship was a warren of small passageways but eventually they found their way below decks to a small, windowless compartment with four bunks and a small head.

"Ah, cubicle, sweet cubicle!" Fiona dropped her bag as they entered the tiny chamber. Charlie jumped on one of the beds, claiming it for his own, then changed his mind, wanting a top bunk instead. Fiona peeked inside the minuscule bathroom. Turning to Michael, she had a devilish grin as she said, "This should be interesting. Fortunately, I'm the creative sort." Her comment cut some of the tension and Michael returned her smile as he stowed the luggage under the bunks. A confined space was not one of their fears, they had more serious concerns. Neither Fiona nor Michael would feel safe until they were in international waters. It was going to be a very long night.

They set up a watch schedule, alternating guarding Charlie in the cabin and patrolling the passage way leading to it, both realizing that if they had been compromised, there was little they could actually do. A gunfight in these tight spaces with ricocheting bullets was suicidal. At least it provided them with a focus, an outlet for productive activity, rather than let fear overtake them.

Charlie's excitement with his new surroundings had finally lost its luster and he snuggled into his top bunk as the midnight hour approached. The ship would leave the harbor at dawn. The hours dragged on. Michael paced the corridors, alert for any signs of trouble. Fiona tried to do her deep breathing exercises trying to keep her mind clear and calm. After what seemed like an eternity, the ship began to move, slowly at first, eventually picking up speed. Fiona peered out the cabin doorway, searching for Michael. He was right outside and noted the movement, as well, meeting her gaze with a weak, but promising smile. Two more hours and they would be home free!

Michael gently tapped on the cabin door. Fiona slipped out to join him in the corridor. The strain was evident on both their faces, sleep impossible. He brushed her cheek softly with his hand, "You, okay here. One of us should go up, get a better sense for where we are." She nodded. Michael took a last look at the closed door and headed down the passageway.

Reaching the top deck, he took a deep breath enjoying the feel of the ocean breeze. Land was no longer visible. Several passengers were milling about the deck clearly enjoying their first morning at sea. A couple of crew members were grappling with some machinery. Someone called, "O'Donovan." Michael stopped short, his hand moving toward his weapon. "Give us a hand." Part of Michael's agreement as part of the "crew" was to help out as needed. He might not have expertise to work on a ship but he had a strong back and willing hands. He moved toward the pair, assisted with the task. The job was an easy one completed within minutes. He relished the physical work, focusing his energies in a productive way. It also gave him an opportunity to meet and talk to other crew members, gauge their reactions to his presence. Thus far, no alarms sounded in his head. He scanned the skies and the horizon looking for any signs of the Coast Guard. After so many failed plans, he was finding it almost hard to believe that this time the plan might actually work.

He returned to the cabin, a little less leery about their circumstances, anxious to give Fiona a positive report. He turned the handle, opening the door a little too quickly and was greeted by the barrel of a pistol pointed dangerously at his face.

"You were supposed to knock!" There stood Fiona, gun in hand, as Charlie peered out from between her legs. Recognizing his uncle, he gave a little wave, as Fiona lowered the weapon, placing it at the small of her back. Michael was about to utter some modicum of an apology but before he could speak, Charlie grabbed him by the hand with determination and excitement.

"Come. Look at this!" He lead Michael into the tiny bathroom, shoved his foot on the toilet pedal, and pushed with all the strength he could muster. A loud "Swoosh" reverberated in the room. Charlie was clearly infatuated with the mechanics of flushing a marine toilet.

"He's been doing that for over an hour." Fiona's face showed a marked lack of humor.

"Did you tell him to stop?"

Fiona lightly hit her head, acting as if Michael's comment was a stroke of genius."Ah, why didn't I think of that?" Her comment laced with sarcasm included a death glare toward Michael. Then she continued, "We discussed the matter at length- the noise, the action of wasting water, the noise, the potential for breakage, the noise-"

"I got it." Michael fully understanding the situation, looking sternly at Charlie, who was beaming.

"Then, he decided he needed to make use of the facilities- every five minutes. I may never give him liquid again." Fiona longed for coffee, preferably with a shot of whiskey in it.

As directed by Sheehan, Fiona kept Charlie close, away from crew and passengers until they reached international waters. As children often do, Charlie had found something to amuse himself. Fiona, however, was not amused. She now wanted Michael to share in that misery. And here Michael thought that his only worry was a surprise visit from the authorities!

Michael was about to suggest that Fiona take a walk to the canteen, grab a coffee, and step out onto the deck to clear her mind, when something was slipped under the door. Both adults froze, annoyances immediately forgotten, as they stared at the paper on the floor. Fiona picked up Charlie, held him close, a wave of fear surging through her entire body. Michael bent down, grabbing the note, opening it with care, as if the paper itself was a danger. Time seemed to stand still for a moment, Fiona unable to breathe. Michael read the words and turned to both of them with an immense look of relief and joy on his face. He turned the paper so that Fiona could read it herself. "Entered international waters 9 minutes ago". Fiona was overcome with emotion, laughter and tears coming simultaneously. Michael put his arms around both of them. Charlie was unsure of what the commotion was all about, but he liked the feeling of being held by both of them, he shouted with glee, "Group hug!", eliciting even more laughter from his family.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

They were safe. Well, as safe as anyone, who had faked his own death, kidnapped a child, assumed a new identity, exited a country illegally, intended to enter another, not 100% sure it was entirely safe either, could be. But for the next week, the past was behind them, the future a blank slate. There was only now.

Routines were established as they settled into a life together. The journey was often monotonous, the days rolling into one another, but it provided them all with an opportunity: time, few distractions, forced togetherness, a chance to start anew, a chance to learn how to be a family.

Their daily lives aboard ship fell into a familiar pattern. Michael and Charlie would rise early; eat breakfast together in the canteen, often bringing tea and toast back to the cabin for Fiona. Charlie was in charge of carrying the toast, remembering to spread a thin layer of jam before wrapping it up in a napkin. Michael carried the mug of tea. Both would tiptoe back into the cabin in case Fi was sleeping, but she was always awake. Charlie would climb into bed next to her as she had her breakfast and would chatter about whatever he heard during his meal.

Michael and Fiona fulfilled their work detail. A few hours each day, each assumed the minimal duties assigned. Michael's tasks were varied. He did some maintenance painting, tinkered with some machinery, moved equipment, and even did some general cleaning. Fiona begrudgingly served her kitchen duty, often chopping vegetables, or washing dishes. It wasn't that she minded work. It was the type of work that irked her. She would have much preferred the tasks Michael was given. Michael had listened to her complain about the rampant sexism aboard the ship on several occasions. He had learned to listen, sympathize, and make no comment.

There was also a small gym on board for the use of crew and passengers alike. Fiona and Michael took turns making use of the facility, as well as, jogging on deck. They also found time to rediscover their life as a couple, before recent events tore them apart. Michael and Fiona reconnected on many levels. They were well aware of their own needs, making sure they built some "together" time into their day. When Charlie napped, they talked in whispers, closing some of the gaps the past year had created. For the very first time in their relationship, they were both of one mind, one purpose. The rest of the time was spent with Charlie, sometimes individually, sometimes together.

Fiona and Charlie played with toys together. Sometimes it was dinosaurs, sometimes it was army men, sometimes it was dinosaurs versus army men. Fiona learned the name of every dinosaur, its diet, habitat, and enemies. Charlie learned the type of apparatus each soldier carried, its purpose, its defensive or offensive capabilities, its strengths and weaknesses. Their imaginations ran wild as they crawled about the cabin creating scenarios for their game.

Michael and Charlie engaged in different activities. They spent hours together, walking around the ship, often hand in hand. Charlie asking questions about what things were and how they worked, Michael patiently explaining. Sometimes, with permission of the crew, they took things apart, sometimes they put things together, sometimes they did both. Michael learned how to phrase complicated terms and ideas into simpler ones that a child could understand. Charlie learned to handle a few tools safely, follow directions, and had an outlet for his keen observation skills.

When they were all together, they had picnics on the deck, if the weather cooperated. They threw darts in the lounge, Michael and Fiona believing it was never too early to develop hand eye coordination, essential for aiming any type of propelled device. They went on caustic chemical scavenger hunts. Charlie learned to quickly identify biohazard signs. Michael and Fiona, Charlie alternating between the two, challenged each other in slingshot contests, arguing over distance travelled, accuracy, and difficulty of material used. They also taught Charlie to count to ten-in seven different languages!

Dinners were a community event on a cargo ship, the crew and its few passengers eating together, the meals simple yet plentiful. Charlie gathered a host of admirers especially among the retirees. The only problem was the constant reminder to Charlie about playing house, remembering the game, pretending Fi was "Ma" and Michael was "Da". Michael and Fiona continued to be uncomfortable with this ruse, but it was necessary to keep them all safe.

The evenings were spent with all three piled together, reading a bedtime story or creating one of their own, everyone taking a turn to add to it. Their stories were often filled with explosions and often ended with laughter. This was Charlie's favorite part of the day. He felt safe. He felt loved. When his eyes began to close, Michael lifted him into his bunk. Fiona tucked him in. Then, they both planted goodnight kisses on his forehead. He often drifted off to sleep dreaming of dinosaurs romping through mine fields.

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One day differed from all the rest. The cabin was plastered with colorful pieces of paper, each one with a large "4" emblazoned on it. Charlie opened his eyes, amazed at the sight before him. "I'm four!" A tremendous shout upon the realization that his birthday had finally arrived.

"Happy Birthday, Charlie!" Michael gave him a 'high four' plunging Charlie into a fit of laughter. Fiona repeated the birthday greetings accompanied by a giant hug. Michael placed three boxes on his bed wrapped in blue paper sealed with duct tape. Both adults watched intently for Charlie's reaction to this windfall.

"Presents!" Charlie squealed as he opened the first box, a Lego-like kit to build a P-51 Mustang plane. Fiona smiled approvingly at Michael, gently placing a hand on his back. Charlie tore into the second package, paper flying in all directions. "Whoa!" An expression of approval as Charlie opened the second package. Fiona looked at the box, and then she focused on Michael, a glare on her face, "An F-18? Really?" Clearly, Fiona still had issues with their close call in Panama. She removed her hand from Michael's back, looking slightly annoyed.

Before further conversation could occur, Charlie picked up the last gift. This time he opened the wrapping more slowly, savoring the moment of this final surprise. Once unwrapped, he stared at the contents, mesmerized, finally saying, "Now, I can be a real secret agent!" Fiona read the title of the box: "Spy Guy: Secret Mission Set". Tears formed in her eyes as she moved her gaze toward Michael.

"You said to go with what I know." He said these words somewhat sadly, wondering perhaps that he had made a poor selection, not wanting to disappoint Fi and especially, not Charlie, unable to read her reaction.

Fiona replied, "That I did... it's perfect." She encircled his waist with her arm, leaning closely against him. Charlie ripped into the box unloading its contents. There were a pair of binoculars, rear view sunglasses, a set of walkie-talkie wristwatches, a night vision scope, and several other gadgets.

"Can we play now, please?" Charlie was anxious to test out the new toys.

Michael thought for a moment before replying, "Even spies have to eat. Why don't we have some breakfast first? Maybe some pancakes?"

"Pancakes!" Charlie leapt out of bed, ready to get dressed and greet the day.

The celebration continued throughout the day. Toy pieces dotted the cabin floor. Charlie and Michael spent hours assembling the plane kit. Later, Charlie explained what the gadgets in his spy kit were used for, why they were important. "This," holding up one of the objects, "helps you see through walls so you can see what the bad guys are doing."

Fiona picked it up, shaking her head, "You're thinking of a thermal imagining camera. This is a night scope." Michael scowled at her, but she continued, undeterred, "If you are going to teach him to be a spy, make sure he's a good one."

"I don't want to be a spy." Charlie was adamant, a frown appearing on his face The adults were slightly taken aback, wondering what prompted such a strong reaction, reading perhaps more into the comment than was warranted. Charlie continued, "I want to be a train conductor, or, maybe an astronaut, or maybe a football player…" Michael and Fiona listened to all the possibilities Charlie imagined.

After dinner, a huge sheet cake emerged from the kitchen, the ship's cook eager to make the day a special one for the young passenger. Charlie's name was written in blue icing, the number "4" below it. There was even a side of strawberry ice cream to accompany the dessert. Crew and passengers alike joined in the singing of "Happy Birthday", as well as, "For He's a Jolly Good Fellow."

It wasn't the birthday that Madeline envisioned. There were no train or dinosaur decorations, no playmates, no party games, no Uncle Sam or Uncle Jesse. Charlie didn't seem to notice what was absent, he only knew what it was - a celebration. And it was theirs. Many years from now when Charlie was grown with a child of his own, Michael and Fiona would still remember this day fondly. It was the first of many shared milestones and would forever remain close to their hearts.

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The sea voyage provided a true escape for them all. It was not solely a means of transport but also a means of transition. Each moment, each nautical mile moved them further from Miami, further from the life they used to have. Bodies had time to rest, souls had time to heal. Adjustments would need to be made once they reached land but for now they were not only living, but also more importantly, they were living free.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve **

The day was new breaking with promise. She rose early wanting to catch the first glimpse of the place so long abandoned. She stood on deck oblivious of the wet, lost in her own thoughts, not even aware of Michael's approach until he was beside her. "I didn't think I would ever be back here." Fiona kept her eyes focused on the nearing land.

"That makes two of us." Michael added, "And this time, I intend to stay", these words bringing a small smile to Fiona's face.

"Charlie still asleep?"

Michael nodded. "I'll go back. Just wanted to let you know as members of the crew, we're the last to disembark. I'll help with some of the off loading. Make myself useful. Sell the cover in case any of the harbour authorities are watching. Once that's done, most of the crew will be given time ashore, and we'll make our exit."

"Sounds good. Give me another minute and I'll join you." Fiona watched, as Cork Harbour loomed closer. She hoped that they had made the right move coming here. Too late for regrets at this point. She took a deep breath of the sea air, another look at the port coming into view, and headed back to the cabin.

The harbour entry was smooth, the unloading excruciating long, but finally, it was time to leave the ship. Michael carried the bags. Fiona carried Charlie. A large envelope was thrust in Fiona's hand as they reached the dock. It appeared too small to be an explosive device, too large to be paperwork. She separated herself from Michael and Charlie before she opened it, just to be safe. Inside she found a set of car keys, a slip of paper with an address and directions, a mobile, 400€, and a note in recognizable handwriting that read, "Failte abhaile."

As she approached Michael, she dangled the car keys. "Looks like our transportation needs have been met. We're looking for a grey Nissan Qashqai with this plate number."

Michael made a quick circuit of the car park. Once the car was located, the undercarriage was checked, a necessary precaution, the bags were loaded, and as Fiona peered in the back seat, she spotted a booster seat just the right size for Charlie. "Thank God. I didn't want to have to build another one." Michael rolled his eyes, then handed her the car keys.

"You drive. I need some practice sorting out my left and rights."

"Gladly." She settled herself behind the wheel, enjoying the feeling of being in the proper place for a driver's seat. The engine started, she put the car into gear, and headed for the motorway. The roads were easily navigable, signage regularly posted in Irish, as well as, English. Fiona was clearly in her element, behind the wheel, in control, checking for tails or any sign of trouble.

"Fi, you missed the N22. Turn around up ahead." Michael read the directions again before he brought the error to her attention.

"I know my way around, Michael. I didn't miss it. We're taking a side trip." They crossed the River Lee moving slightly away from their destination.

"A side trip? Fi, we don't have time..." Michael began his thought, instantaneously interrupted.

"For the first time in years, that's exactly what we do have!" She stated this as fact and continued, "We have all the time in the world."

Michael was slightly taken aback as he allowed this fact to sink in. She was right. There was no place they needed to be, no mission to complete, no one to be accountable to. It was a slightly uncomfortable feeling and he realized it would take some adjustment. Fiona watched as his face reflected his conflicted emotions.

"Where are we going?" A small voice queried from the back seat.

"It's a surprise." Fiona glanced at Charlie through the mirror.

"I like surprises. Do you like surprises, Uncle Michael?"

Michael was silent for a moment. "Depends. I haven't had many "good" surprises in my life."

"Well, that's about to change." They entered the small village, passing several shops and cafes, before arriving at the car park. A flotilla of coaches filled the space but being off-season there was ample space to park. They joined the queue, Michael realizing where they were, but not sure why they were there. Fiona met his questioning stare, simply saying, "For Charlie", that being the only explanation needed.

Tickets in hand, they passed through the turnstile, the park opening up before them. A path meandered through the grounds, large trees dotted the landscape, many of them bare, when suddenly Charlie came to a complete stop. He mouth dropped, his eyes wide, as he caught sight of the tower rising in the distance. "A castle!"

"It is. Blarney Castle. Not my favorite by any stretch, but it's a start." Then turning to Michael she added, "And it was on the way."

Charlie grabbed both their hands and began to pull them forward. It was a long walk from the entrance gates to the actual castle but the exercise was welcome, the crossing having curtailed much activity. As they reached the rock foundation, Charlie craned his neck looking upward, the tower reached to the heavens, casting a shadow on the visitors below. As they walked about the exterior, Fiona pointed out various architectural features they had talked about in the safe house, how this castle differed from the one that they drew on the floor, how it was the same. Michael was somewhat intrigued by the conversation between the two, and a little concerned that Fiona had apparently been discussing sieges and battle plans with his nephew. But one thing he was sure of, he had never seen Charlie so animated.

They entered the shell of the keep, climbed its many staircases, and strolled the ramparts. The countryside could be seen for miles around, Michael noting the strength of its defensive position. They chose to bypass the kissing of the stone, Fiona declaring it for tourists and sadists, and instead chose to wander the gardens and the woodlands. They paused for a time in the Poison Garden, an array of poisonous plants not really suited for exploring with a young child as they soon discovered, before heading on their way.

Charlie's legs grew weary and Michael scooped him up as they strolled toward the exit. A souvenir shop strategically placed at the gate grabbed his attention and he noticed a small double-decker bus just the same size as his trains. It was a small purchase that Michael was glad to make. Then they would have three small vehicles to move about the floor and Fiona would have to be included. Time for payback! When at the register, something else caught his eye, a small snow globe, a replica of the castle in its center. He added it to his purchase as a "surprise" for Fiona. After all, it was a start of a new life. It seemed appropriate to start a new collection.

Charlie seemed to collapse the moment the car began to move. The landscape zoomed by in a blur. Michael dozed while Fiona navigated the narrow roads enjoying the sensation of the familiar. The days were short this time of year, the light beginning to fade. She decided another stop was in order. They were nearing Kenmare, a good place to have some dinner, pick up some supplies, the villages increasingly smaller as they proceeded on their route. Michael was jarred from his rest as the car was parked. Groggy, he asked, "Where am I?"

Fiona flashed back on a similar question asked years ago, but this time her answer was different, "Kenmare". She continued, "We should pick up a few things. Not sure what we may find at the cottage." They strolled about the few streets lined with colorful shoppes, pubs, and restaurants, noting the location of the SuperValu, a good place to amass some foodstuffs. While surveying the town, they were accosted by the aroma emanating from several places along Main Street. Michael was fully awake now, as was Charlie. "I'm hungry", a frequent comment from the wee one, Michael agreeing that food would definitely be welcome. They settled on fish and chips from Wharton's takeaway, eating in the square. Michael and Fiona sharing an order, splurging on fried food, a guilty pleasure. Charlie had his own small portion.

"Ah, I forgot just how good this is!" Fiona closed her eyes, savouring each bite.

"Where's the ketchup?" Charlie asked while searching through the wrapping.

"There isn't any. It's vinegar or mayonnaise." Michael presented the cold hard facts.

Charlie scrunched up his face, not liking the answer.

Then, Charlie added, "And there's no toy!"

Both adults stifled a laugh as Charlie continued to rummage through the wrappings, still hoping to find a plaything. Eventually, he gave up the search, concentrating on his meal instead. As his hunger was soon satisfied, curiosity began to take hold. Charlie grew pensive. "What do you think it will be like?

Michael looked at Fiona to see if she knew what Charlie was talking about. She shook her head prompting Michael to ask, "What, what, will be like?"

"The place we are going to live." Charlie' brow was furrowed as he pondered the possibilities.

Michael looked at his nephew. "Well, considering where we are, my guess it will be green, wet, and possibly smell like sheep." A comment that prompted Fiona to stand up, gather the remnants of their meal, and dispose of the rubbish.

"There's only one sure way to find out! Shall we?" She reached out her hand which Charlie gladly took hold of. The three left the square, picked up some essentials at the market, then headed further westward, headed to their new home, headed to their new life.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

The road continued westward. The moon was nearly full, reflecting on the bay beside them, its light proving helpful on the desolate stretch of road. During the summer months hordes of tourists often descended, but at this time of year, it was only those who belonged. Michael navigated, indicating a turn away from the sea. The lanes narrowed, elevation gained.

Sean had taken her at her word. The cottage found was near Lough Currane, nestled above _Coirean_ and _Cathair Donall_. It was nearly as far from Belfast as one could get without getting wet. The saying, "The next parish is Boston", often said in jest about this part of the land. All three were silent, each lost in their own thoughts. Charlie was enjoying the ride. The twists, the turns, the ups and downs of the country road reminded him of a carnival ride. Michael thinking, "Where the hell are we?" as he looked about, seeing few signs of habitation. Fiona concentrated on the road ahead, wondering what they would find at its end.

"Slow down, Fi, we're nearing the km mark for the turnoff." Sean's directions had few street names, using mostly distance travelled and local landmarks for guidance. "There, up ahead." Fiona saw the indicated spot, turning slowly onto it. The lane was barely wide enough for the car, the brambles brushing along the sides. It was a short distance until there was a bit of a clearing. A small cottage on a slight rise appeared before them. Trees surrounded it, an uncommon sight in many parts of the land, more common about the lough. Fiona pulled the car onto a small patch of gravel that fronted the house serving as a carport, the tyres making the only sound in the landscape. Once parked, no one moved or spoke for several moments. Charlie finally breaking the silence, "Is there a potty inside?"

"I hope so," replied Michael. Then, he added, "It will be inside, right?", looking toward Fiona.

"Quite amusing, Michael. We better get him inside before we have more problems to deal with."

They exited the car, pulling their jackets closer around them. Michael went ahead, fumbling with the keys, as he worked the lock worn with age. Fiona helped Charlie out of his booster following close behind. "I think we might have better luck with our lock picks." Michael struggled before the key finally unlocked the door. He searched for the light switch on the interior wall. A soft glow illuminated the room.

Fiona spotted a corridor leading off the main rooms and directed Charlie in that direction. It lead to two bedrooms with a bath between. Charlie hustled to the toilet while Fiona took stock of her surroundings. Charlie finished quickly but stopped short, as he was about to wash his hands. He stared at the two spigots, unsure which to use. Fiona saw his uncertainty. "One's for the hot, the other for the cold, " she explained. She demonstrated, warning him to keep the hot at a trickle. Charlie filled the basin creating a pool of warm water, deciding to wash a bit more than his hands. He was fascinated by adding different amounts of hot and cold, testing out the resulting temperature.

Once the novelty had lost its luster, he moved onto the bedroom Fiona indicated would be his. There were twin beds, a small bedside table, a large wardrobe, and a chest of drawers under one of the windows overlooking what Fi thought may be a garden, telling Charlie that tomorrow they would investigate. Charlie bounced from bed to bed, deciding which would be his, and which one she could have. Fiona smiled at the thought. "This is home now. You're going to have your very own big boy room, just like you had at grandma's house." Charlie thought about this for a while before breaking into an immense grin.

Michael joined the pair after depositing their bags throughout the house. The last bags he carried were Charlie's, duffel filled with clothes, and his backpack containing his toys. Charlie gave Michael a tour of his new room, then led him into the bathroom, filling him in on the proper use of the bathroom sink. Meanwhile, Fiona unpacked some of Charlie's clothes, placing them in the drawers, laying his pajamas on the duvet, pulling it back a bit, preparing it for its new inhabitant.

Their sense of time was quite muddled after their journey, combined with the shortened days this far north, and the stress they had all been under. A real bed awaited them all. For Charlie, sleep beckoned. For Fiona and Michael, well, she had a few other ideas.

When Michael and Charlie returned, those same bedtime rituals begun on the ship were followed. As Charlie settled under the duvet, Michael sat down beside him, book in hand, and began to read, "In the great green room there was a telephone, and a red balloon, and a picture of-The cow jumping over the moon." Fiona listened and watched, finally resting on the other bed. The story finished, Charlie drifted off to sleep, light kisses pressed onto his forehead. Michael rose carefully, not wanting to awaken the boy. He and Fiona reached the doorway, looked at their charge, and shut off the light.

They entered the hallway, closing Charlie's door behind them. Fiona was headed for the other bedroom.

"Don't you want to look around the rest of the house?" Michael asked.

"Not really. It will still be here tomorrow, and the day after. I had something else in mind." Fiona's expression was easily read.

Michael simply replied with a smile, shutting the door behind them.

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Fiona awoke, alone, to weak sunlight seeping through the windows, allowing her to survey the room about her. It was slightly larger than Charlie's bedroom. This room held a four-poster big enough for two, a double wardrobe with lots of storage, a dresser, vanity table, and two small bedside tables. There was a single chair squeezed into the corner. Windows lined the back wall just as they had in the other bedroom. Fiona rose, pulled back the drapes slightly to gaze at the view. There was a small plot of garden lined with trees, a picnic table with two benches tucked near the house. Her curiosity satisfied, she headed toward the front of the cottage ready to join the rest of her family.

Breakfast was in full swing. Charlie was munching on some cereal. He was in mid-crunch when he spotted her. "Morning!" A bit garbled, but understandable. Michael had just put the kettle on, in preparation for the tea. She gazed about her, taking in her new surroundings. The front of the house was practically one great room, the furniture defining the space. Mullioned windows framed the doorway. There was a stone fireplace and a small, but useable kitchen to the side. The furniture was heavy and carved. It was a pleasant room exuding a sense of warmth, inviting one to linger.

She sat down at the table. It was round, made of oak. It's top was aged, slightly scarred, the scene of many a meal. She ran her hand over the top admiring its character. She stopped, looking at the loaf of brown in the center of the table. She reached out, noticing the hint of a letter indented on its surface.

"Where did you get this?" She looked at Michael, a strange expression on her face.

"The bread? It was here. Found it this morning on the counter." Michael saw the bewilderment on her face. "Is there a problem?"

"No, no problem." She broke off a piece, popped it in her mouth, closed her eyes as she savoured its taste. Michael had poured the tea, placing a cup in front of her. She looked at him, explaining, "It's my mother's. See the 'G'." She traced the imprint with her finger.

Michael could see it now, unsure how to respond, or even if a response was needed.

"There was a box, too. It was on the table. I moved it under the sideboard." Michael followed her gaze as it moved to the spot indicated. "I didn't look inside. I just assumed it belonged to the owners, but..."

Fiona didn't wait for him to finish. She moved toward the box. Charlie jumped to her side interested in the unraveling mystery, whispering, "Maybe it's a treasure chest." Both she and Charlie sat on the floor. Fiona opened the flaps on the carton as they peered inside. Michael walked over, standing behind them, curious as to its contents and its source.

An assortment of household goods could be seen: a pair of pewter candlesticks, a lace tablecloth, a china tea pot decorated with roses, some small wooden blocks, and a few other items. At the bottom she found a framed photograph of two little girls hand in hand at the seaside and a note.

She read it first silently, then aloud:

"_A stor,_

A home is more than a place to rest. It holds our memories and

our hearts. Here are a few from your past. Use them well as you

make ones of your own."

Mam"

"Rats!" Charlie was heartily disappointed. "I was hoping for treasure."

Michael watched Fiona's face as she tried not to cry, staring at her mother's words. He spoke to Charlie in a hushed voice. "I think that's just what we got. Treasure." He sat down, his arms around her, enjoying the riches before them. One mother gave them a future, the other, mementoes of the past. They had arrived. They were truly home.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

The box with its treasure was emptied with care. The small wooden blocks, Fiona's own from long ago, were presented to Charlie. He and Michael built towers and dinosaur pens spreading them about the floor of the front room while Fiona placed the rest of the objects from the box thoughtfully about the cottage. The pewter candlesticks and teapot graced the dining room sideboard. The lace cloth blanketed the table, a Beleek vase covered with shamrocks placed at its center. A few special plates, some Christmas ornaments, and a few photos were stored away. The snowglobe carried from Miami was lovingly placed on the end table. Fiona set the small Blarney Castle snowglobe that Michael had surprised her with last night next to it. They were reminders of new beginnings, then and now.

The framed photo was set on the mantle, a place of honor. Fiona stepped back reflecting on the image, two little girls, frolicking on the beach, their toes in the sea, smiling without a care in the world. Michael stopped what he was doing for a moment, and stood bedside her. "How old were you? In the picture?"

"Nine, I think. Claire was seven. We were on holiday in Portrush, enjoying a place by the sea. It was a glorious time, a rare event when we could get away. Away from Belfast. Away from the worry. I never wanted it to end." She paused, remembering. "The water was so cold. Claire and I raced to the waves, when they tried to catch us, we hustled to the shore. I remember the overwhelming sense of freedom, our laughter... especially our laughter." She grew silent and turned away, disappearing into the back bedroom. Michael believed his questions had upset her. He was about to follow and apologize but she soon returned. She carried another small framed photograph, this one of two young boys, placing it on the mantle beside the other.

Now, it was Michael's turn to catch his breath. "How did you...?"

"Madeline took it with her when we left the house. It was her favorite. She said that it was the happiest that she had ever seen you and Nate. It was a memory she held dear. It was one of the few things she took from the house that day." The photographs held their attention, both lost in the past.

Charlie was intrigued wondering what had drawn Michael away from the game. He slowly made his way over to them, following their gaze. "Who's that?"

Michael lifted him up. "That's Fiona and her sister Claire when they were a little older than you are. That's me and Nate, my brother." He was unsure of what else to say, unsure how much to say. Michael and Fiona shared worried glances. His short life was filled with a great deal of turmoil. How much did he remember? What should be left in the past? Questions not easily answered.

Charlie regarded the people in the photograph, not indicating any recognition of Nate, finally saying, "I want a brother or a sister..." Michael and Fiona both stiffened at the suggestion. They were instant parents to a four year old, something neither had envisioned. All their focus was on the present. Neither knew how to respond, unsure how the other felt about the suggestion. Then he continued, "... or maybe I want a puppy instead."

"Puppy, it is!" Michael answered quickly as both left their reverie, returning to the present, feeling they had just dodged something worse than a bullet.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was a soft day, the air moist and brisk, inviting enough for a walk. The ground spongy enough to remind Fiona to purchase some wellies for them all on the next trip to town.

They explored the immediate area around the cottage. They were fields and trails, some leading down to the lake, some leading toward the passes and mountains. Sheep could often be heard bleating in the distance. There were other cottages in sight dotting the countryside, smoke arising from the chimneys of a few. There were enough potential neighbors to not feel isolated, few enough to have some much needed privacy. Fiona expected the barrage of visits to begin in a few days, after it became known that they were intending to be residents rather than just on holiday. She stocked up on tea and biscuits in anticipation. But for now, it was the three of them settling into this place that was to be home.

They reached a spot where the lough was visible, the mist hanging low over the surrounding hills. Charlie moved slightly ahead, searching for rocks, easy to come by in this landscape. Michael looked about. It felt somehow surreal to be in this peaceful corner of the world after all he had been through, after they all had been through. Miami seemed not only an ocean away, but also a lifetime away. He wondered what his life would have been like had he never left all those years ago. If he had simply fled to this place with her instead of heeding Card's warning. Then he brushed that thought aside. They weren't ready for this life then. They were now.

He watched Fiona. He could tell how glad she was to be here. He underestimated the cost of losing her homeland during her hiatus in Miami. She suddenly broke into laughter.

"Something funny?" Michael asked, wondering what prompted the outburst.

She explained, "Jesse once told me you don't get involved with some like Michael Westen thinking he's going to settle down, buy a house on the lake." She paused, pointing the water in front of them, then added, "Guess he was wrong."

Michael's smile turned as wide as her own. "Next time, we see him, we'll be sure to let him know." He hoped that there truly would be a next time. The thought of never seeing Sam and Jesse again was just too much to contemplate. His thoughts turned back to Fiona. The lilt had already crept back into her voice. Those heels she so frequently wore, impractical for country life, had already been discarded. She was embracing this next phase of life with passion. She set other thoughts, ambitions, aside, as he had. Michael was not totally comfortable yet in this new setting, but he was determined to show Fiona how much she was loved. He was determined to give Charlie the family life he never really had. He was determined that Madeline's sacrifice was not in vain. He was determined to fully live and love, not waste this opportunity, this gift. Hand in hand, Michael and Fiona began the trek back to the cottage while Charlie led the way.

Once back at home, a few chores awaited. Michael wrapped some of the trees in the garden with duct tape denoting the perimeter of the area that Charlie was permitted to play alone. It wasn't long before he wanted to do just that, after all, he was four years old now, ready to spread his wings.

Michael and Fiona walked the perimeter with him, explaining the boundaries and the need to stay within them. The need to keep him safe was powerful. It conflicted with their desire to raise him to be confident and independent. They knew life was often fraught with risk; they would not be able to protect him from every danger. Like every other parent, they needed to find a balance allowing Charlie freedom tempered with supervision. They acquiesced to his request, standing guard at the window watching his every move.

"Look at him out there, happy out running all about the place." Fiona stared at the little boy who seemed to be pretending to be an airplane flying about the garden.

"You, okay?" Michael asked noticing Fiona's entire body was tense, her hands gripping the teacup.

"I told you once that I don't worry, that I hadn't worried since I was a little girl." Fiona spoke haltingly.

Michael said solemnly, "I remember. I'd never forget it."

She looked at him, smiling weakly, then turning back to watch Charlie. "That's no longer the case. I'm worried... not for us, for Charlie." They stood in silence. "Can we do this?" Her question was one both had and yet, remained unspoken throughout their journey.

"We'll feed him lots of yogurt. Teach him all the uses of duct tape. He'll be fine." Fiona relaxed a bit as he said this. Then he added, "Besides we really have no choice, if we don't my mom will find a way to kick my ass from above- yours, too, I might add."

"Good point." Fiona agreed with his assessment. She had no intention of disappointing Madeline Westen! She added, "Then we'll take our chances." They watched as Charlie ran around the garden, spinning happily, enjoying living free.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Later that evening, after a dinner prepared by Michael, they relaxed by the warmth of a fire. The plan was to have a cuppa, then tuck Charlie into bed. While the kettle was on the boil, Charlie grew sleepy, his activity in the garden earlier tiring him out. He slowly sunk down, resting his head on Michael's lap, falling asleep soon after.

_**"**__How's he doing?"_ Fiona joined them on the sofa carrying two mugs of tea. She placed one on the table before Michael. The other, she wrapped her hands around, enjoying its warmth. She slipped off her shoes settling down beside Michael.

Michael shifted the covers, keeping Charlie warm. _"I think he's okay. He just fell asleep like this. Should I, uh,...?" _

_"Oh, no. I think he's fine."_ Fiona's words were reassuring, not totally convinced herself, but seeing no harm. The, she cozied up to Michael, gently leaning against him, musing how this was how it was always meant to be.

Michael turned serious as his thoughts turned to the future. _"What will I tell him when he's older?"_

_"About what?"_ Fiona asked, not quite following his thoughts.

_"About me."_ Michael pondered his life, his past, how would he explain all that he was, all that he had done. He struggled with the damage his choices had wrought on all he loved.

_"Tell him the truth."_ Fiona presented this option as the obvious one, the only one, really.

Michael grappled with her answer, recognizing it as the correct choice, but unsure of exactly how to do that. _"Where would I start?"_

_"Start from the beginning. Start with, 'My name is Michael Westen. I used to be a spy."_ As she said those words, Michael smiled. Their eyes met, followed by their lips. Fiona rested her head on his shoulder as they gazed together at the fire, both content, both at peace, both in love, both ready to tackle the future. Together.

_-An Deireadh-_

**Author's Note:** Thank you one and all for the lovely reviews. I needed to fill in the gaps for myself on how Michael, Fiona, and Charlie might possibly have reached a safe haven to begin anew. Hope you enjoyed the journey!


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